Matters of Love
by LindenOwl
Summary: Red Strings: a Japanese legend that you are connected to your love by a red string around the little finger. Symposium: an ancient Greek myth that once, people were actually two beings connected together, and love is trying to find who you have been separated from. Modern Day AU. Greece/Japan, briefly Greece/China.
1. Strings

Kiku sat on the park bench, watching the scene unfold before him. It was always the most distracting in parks; the flashes of red that indicated a string connecting two people. It wove itself like a net on particularly bad days, and Kiku never got used to straight walking through one.

Not for the first time, he looked down to the knot on his own little finger, trailing to the ground, then making a sharp turn left. He swung his hand. The yarn swayed.

Kiku checked his watch and stood. Although he had the unusual hobby of people watching, he liked to keep it from taking too much time away from his work. He had clients to call and photos to send. He started walking away, thread trailing behind him.

* * *

"Yong Soo is coming over next weekend," Yao's voice came out of his phone, "You could come too, if you'd like."

Kiku set down the manga he was reading, reaching for the phone to check his calendar.

"The seventeenth?" he asked. The prospect of a weekend with Yao and Yong Soo wasn't the most exciting, but neither was re-watching _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _for the sixth time.

"I think so. Three days from now."

"The seventeenth," Kiku affirmed, "When should we be there?"

"Ask Yong Soo. I think he has a meeting that day, and that's why he's in the city."

"Very well," Kiku paused, "Is there a special occasion?"

"No, just a family visit. And it's the first time you'll meet Herakles," Yao said.

"The one who's cat you almost stepped on?"

"He forgave me, after a few weeks," Yao was quick to defend himself, and Kiku let out a faint smile.

"I'll be there," he said.

"Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye."

* * *

_The thread ran along the sands, and this was the first time it actually led to someone. Someone who was getting farther and farther away, and Kiku could feel the pull on his finger, could feel the pull on his body, and soon he was chasing after the silhouette. He called out something that he was sure was a name, but the sound was foreign before he yelled and forgot it immediately after…_

Kiku's eyes opened to the sun rising outside his window, sheets tangled and legs sore. He sat up and gingerly stepped onto the cold hardwood floor.

* * *

"Are you sure those fortune cookies aren't offensive?" Kiku gestured to the plastic bag in Yong Soo's hand.

"At least I got him a gift," Yong Soo replied, "Couldn't you have brought flowers or something?"

"I'm not asking him out on a date. We're visiting him as brothers, and flowers wouldn't be appropriate."

The elevator dinged, doors opening to let the two men through to the third floor.

"Excuses, excuses," Yong Soo shook his head, "I'll be generous and say it's from both of us, okay?"

"I don't want my name to be attached to that."

Yong Soo simply shrugged, before pushing the package into Kiku's arms and knocking on the door. A second later, he was jumping and what looked like suffocating Yao.

Propriety, Kiku realized for the dozenth time, wasn't something he could use as an excuse with Yong Soo.

In the brief moment Yao was flailing around to try to get Yong Soo off of himself, Kiku noticed a man standing behind both of them, with tousled brown hair and a sleepy expression. Herakles. In the next, as he handed the bag to Yao, Kiku saw, with dread, that the string on Herakles' little finger was not connected to Yao.

It led straight to his own slackened hand.

* * *

The apartment Yao owned seemed modest for his background, but there were surprisingly spacious rooms and tasteful decorations left behind by the last tenant. Yao had a knack for finding things like that. It was how he found Kiku, it was how he found Yong Soo, and it was how their set of not actually brothers and sisters had come together.

It must have been how he found Herakles.

"I visited Kyoto once, when Sadik said he thought the magazine should be 'more cultured'. I have some drawings, if you'd like to see them," Herakles offered

"We'd be interested," Kiku nodded.

The three brothers heard footsteps, and then rummaging, and then footsteps coming back.

"Here they are," Herakles handed some to Kiku and some to Yong Soo.

There were some inked, and fewer painted, but most of them were done with graphite and charcoal, smooth lines of dark grey with the initial underdrawings easy to see.

"Why are they all black and white?" Yong Soo asked, "I mean, they're nice, but you can't show the shrines without the bright red colour."

"When you add colours, the under drawing is lost. I only colour the ones that are to be hung up, or put into articles. The rest are… studies, I suppose."

"That's the most effort I've seen in a study of a building. The birds seem unnecessary," Yong Soo muttered into the pile of papers he was sorting through.

Yes, Yao had a knack, and that served him well.

* * *

That night, in one of Yao's guest rooms, Kiku tried out Herakles' name, quietly, in case anyone would hear. It rolled off his tongue, and he quite liked it.

He thought of Yao and Herakles, wondering how bad they would take the break up. It might have been a nice relationship, if not perfect. Kiku had seen his friends happy with people they weren't tied to- the relationships just didn't stay that happy for long.

Still, as he turned in his bed, Kiku knew he didn't have the heart to stop this one short. Besides, the string might tangle or loosen or wear, but it never went away or snapped. Herakles and he would be tied together, and they would have plenty of time.

* * *

The day Kiku heard Yao had broken it off, he and Mei went to the apartment they knew their brother was. Mei, armed with DVDs and several tubs of ice cream, and Kiku with a bouquet of flowers. He had come prepared, this time.

Yao opened the door, and instead of the distraught, puffy-eyed husk of a man they had expected, a man just out of the shower and drying off his hair appeared.

"You brought ice cream?"

* * *

Kiku walked into the office, manila folder of photos in his hand.

"Hello?" he asked reception, spotting a bearded man instead of Andreas, who had given him the job.

The man looked up, and Kiku noticed he wore a mask across his eyes. "You must have the pictures from Seoul? Honda?"

He nodded, "Yes, Kiku Honda." He offered his hand.

"Adnan. Sadik Adnan," the receptionist shook his hand.

"Ah," Kiku drew his hand away, remembering the long, mostly unflattering descriptions Herakles had made of a man of the same name months ago, "You wouldn't happen to know a man named Herakles?"

"Karpusi? The article's author?"

"Yes, I'd like to speak with him about some of the photos," Kiku lied.

"Okay, then," Sadik shrugged, before getting up to get the man.

* * *

"Hello," Herakles said, holding a kitten in his hands.

"Hello," Kiku answered.

"I heard you wanted to talk about the article?" Herakles asked, though Kiku was sure from his expression that as soon as they step out the door, the man would fall asleep.

"That would be nice."

"There's a coffee shop across the street."

* * *

Kiku was leaning on a tree and Herakles was laying on the short and choppy grass.

"You know," Kiku started, "There's a legend in Japan about strings."

"Hm?"

"Soul mates are tied together by a red string around their little finger," Kiku held up his hand and joked, "If you look closely, maybe you could see your own."

"I don't think I can see it," Herakles brought his hand over his face, fingers pinkish against the blue sky. Kiku could see a line of red falling to the ground and swerving around rocks to his own hand beside him.

"Not many people can," Kiku shrugged. He'd tried it with Yao and Yong Soo and Mei, and none of them could see it. He didn't know why he thought Herakles could.

"There's a book from Ancient Greece, called Symposium," Herakles started, "One of the speeches says in the beginning, everyone was joined to someone else. Then the gods got angry, so they were split into two. Once they were separated, they spent their entire lives trying to find each other again."

"That's quite sad," Kiku looked down from Herakles' hand to his face.

"The Ancient Greeks liked their tragedies," Herakles shrugged.

"Did they all find each other in the end?"

"Most of them did," Herakles looked over to Kiku, "Helped along by fate."

"Ah."

The wind blew again, another short and soft gust, and the string rose up with it. It fluttered, it tangled, and it frayed and loosened, but the string would never snap.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading the story! Reviews would be appreciated, very much. The next chapter should be Herakles' PoV.**


	2. Symposium

**Warning: Rated T for swearing. **

* * *

It was the feeling of silky hair against the nape of his neck, the scent of green tea and sheaths of paper, the light laugh and calm voice behind him, that have haunted Herakles all his life. It was security and excitement, refreshing and familiar; it was love, in one person. One person he has never met, except for in dreams.

There was no reason Herakles felt so strongly for someone he wasn't sure existed.

* * *

"You need to get your chronic sleeping checked," Yao complained to the head on his lap, yet nonetheless combed his slender fingers through Herakles' hair.

"I could stop if I wanted to," Herakles said, eyes already closed and face tilted towards the window, letting in sun.

"That's what they all say before, suddenly, they end up with thirty person-high stacks of manga and are asking you to clear out the storage room."

"It's not like your Hello Kitty obsession is any better," Herakles joked, although in his drowsy voice, it came out as a dismissal.

"Shinatty-chan," Yao poked Herakles in the back of his head, "His name is Shinatty-chan."

* * *

They were both awake at two in the morning, unusual for Yao only in the fact that he wasn't searching up videos online.

"And then Yong Soo said that Mei had eaten all my ice cream, even though there was a chocolate stain covering a good part of his shirt," Yao laughed, somewhere in between amusement and anger, and the sound of a bottle being tipped came through the phone.

"That's nice," Herakles said, sitting at a table set for two, one of Yao's books on world mythology open where his plate full of food should have been, "But where are you?"

"Oh," Yao said, and his voice sobered, "Leon was holding a party, and I haven't seen him in a while…"

"It was our year-and-a-half anniversary. I thought you wanted to celebrate."

"I thought you didn't. I mean last year, you asked not to do much," Yao answered. The line went silent.

"It doesn't matter," Herakles shrugged, even though Yao wouldn't be able to see it, "Just get home safe, okay?"

"Yeah," Yao said, and then, after a beat, "Sorry."

* * *

It isn't as if Herakles is besotted with Yao, and it isn't that he's forgotten the man (or perhaps woman, but few women have their hair that short) that haunted his dreams back when dreams meant something.

"My two brothers are coming over to visit," Yao sipped at the milk leftover from his cereal, blinds drawn closed because the light was too loud.

"I thought you said you were an only child?"

"Quieter," Yao hissed.

"Sorry," Herakles softened his voice, "I didn't know you had brothers?'

"Technically I don't, but you pick people up along the way," Yao held his chin in his hands, "I like to keep in touch with them."

"Oh."

"It's just Yong Soo," Yao stood up with the support of the table, "And Kiku, but he was never as troublesome. They're coming three or four days from now, I think."

"It's the fourteenth," Herakles offered.

"Three days from now."

Yao began to hobble towards their shared bedroom, and Herakles glanced over to the date circled in bright red on the calendar.

He would feel bad for stringing Yao along just for the feeling of company, if he didn't know the other was doing just the same.

* * *

Yao was making something to do with copious amounts of rice in the kitchen and the smell was heavenly, wafting its way through the apartment, and Herakles was trying to centre the books on the bookshelf when the doorbell rang. The sound of the exhaust went quiet, leaving only a sizzling noise. Yao came out from the kitchen with a plain black apron, an over-sized shirt, and sweatpants. Herakles looked down to his own semblance of a suit.

Yao pulled the door open and Hercules stood just to the right behind him, deciding the suit jacket would be overkill and sliding it off onto a couch.

"Hyung!" a man jumped at Yao, and Yao did his best to shake his brother off.

"Yong Soo brought fortune cookies," the other man held up a bag, plastic and from the Chinese restaurant down the street.

"Don't be modest, Kiku, it's from both of us," the man, Yong Soo, stepped back.

"Just you," Kiku handed the bag to Yao, "Good evening, Yao."

"Good evening, Kiku," Yao said, still smoothing down his hair and rumpled shirt, "This is Herakles."

Yao stepped aside and Herakles raised a hand in greeting. His eyes skipped from Yong Soo's face to Kiku's, and they lingered before turning back to Yao. The face felt familiar, even if he couldn't pin it to a memory.

"Good evening," he repeated, too preoccupied to think of any other greeting.

"Good evening," Kiku replied.

"Good evening," Yong Soo nodded.

The conversation stalled, as neither of them are were willing to feed it.

"Does anyone want food?" Yao broke the silence.

* * *

"You're from Greece?" Yong Soo asked, taking another pot sticker.

"Athens," Herakles nodded, "And you?"

"Seoul," Yong Soo answered, "And Kiku is from Tokyo."

"Oh."

"How was Greece?" Yong Soo continued.

"It was nice," Herakles shrugged, "It had the sea and the mountains."

"Philosophy, too," Yao added, "It was a busy trip there, in between all the museums and historical sites."

"There's a lot to do," Herakles agreed.

"Why did you leave, then?" Kiku asked.

"There's a lot to do everywhere else, too."

* * *

That night, Herakles dreamt of the man again, only, unlike before, with a face to match.

* * *

He had found his own, albeit small, apartment close enough to the magazine building where he worked at was, and the day consisted of waking up, walking to the business, writing and editing his articles, and then walking back to scattered sketches and stories before going back to sleep.

In some ways, he missed Yao. Definitely in the company and the things Yao coerced him into going out and doing, but not enough to go back.

And then there was the matter of Kiku- a man he saw once and then decided was the love of his life. He hadn't seen the man for two or three months, and had no idea how to find him again. He could ask Yao or Mei or Lien, because he'd kept relations well enough for the three of them, but it wasn't that desperate yet.

Herakles toyed with the paw of his kitten as he thought. Perhaps it was best to simply hope whom fate had been kind enough to show once, she would be kind enough to show again.

* * *

"We have the pictures from Seoul, lazy bastard, get up and put them into your magazine," Sadik entered Herakles' office, cluttered with papers and stray cats that had followed him in.

"I've never been to Seoul," Herakles answered.

"We have the report from the person who has-"

"It's not the same. I can't make your article."

"It's your fucking job to make this article."

"It can't be done. My sincerest of apologies," Herakles shrugged, going back to play with one of his kitty's paws. Yao hadn't allowed any cats, saying they were too much trouble, but Herakles was planning to take this one home. He could start adding to his collection again.

"Sincerest of apologies my ass," Sadik growled, "Find a way to make it work."

"You're stifling my creative freedom."

"You'd probably be working at a Starbucks if you didn't have this job."

Herakles started, holding up General Kitty to mimic his disapproving look. She did well, just like she would have in the army. Sadik stared back, finally deciding on a sigh.

"The photographer asked for you. He wants to talk with you about the article."

"Hmm?"

"Said his name was Kiku Honda," Sadiq continued.

"So that's his last name," Herakles muttered, standing up, and, General Kitty safely in his arms, walked out of the room.

* * *

A few minutes later, Herakles had invited Kiku for coffee, ignoring Sadik's yelling about how they could discuss the article in the office.

"Mei said she misses you. She wanted to say hello," Kiku finally said, taking a sip of his tea.

"I miss her too," Herakles sent one last look at General Kitty, faithfully standing outside when the employee informed them that cats were not allowed indoors. "How is she?"

"Mei's trying to make her own bubble tea shop. She said that none of them in this city are good enough," Kiku smiled, "I guess she's right. And you?"

"Alright," Herakles answered, "How was Seoul?"

"It was exciting, I suppose. I'll admit to eating more street food than I was supposed to."

"Sounds like Athens," Herakles smirked.

He sipped at the dark coffee he had ordered and looked at Kiku. His hair was black and cut so his bangs framed his face, his face was pale, and his hands were slender with clean cut nails. There was nothing particularly special about his appearance, except for the fact that it felt so right, so natural, as if once upon a time Herakles had spent days on end looking at him.

"There's a nice park with a couple of hills about fifteen minutes away," Herakles broke the silence, drinking the last of his cup, "I'd like to ask you about the photos, if you don't mind."

"Weren't you working?"

"This is work."

"Well, if your job depends on it..."

* * *

The wind blew, rustling the grass in waves. Herakles sat, his back to Kiku, their hands barely touching. He could feel the silky hair tickling his ears where his own did not, and he could hear a soft hum from Kiku, asking if he'd like to meet again. He would, but for now he wanted to take in the victory, and all it entailed.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again for reading, and reviews would still be appreciated!**


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